


Will I ever finish this?

by Dontcountonmetomakestuff



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Enjolras, Multi, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontcountonmetomakestuff/pseuds/Dontcountonmetomakestuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Grantaire tries to do the right things and oft messes up</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Grantaire overhears things

Grantaire clasped his hands behind his head, fingers twining with damp curls. His breathing was heavy and a thin layer of perspiration coated his forehead. It had been a much needed run and even after his hands still twitched for the noose of a bottle. But running had put distance between Grantaire and his problems. They would inevitably catch back up with him, incessant hounding, but for now he could cope.

He shook out his legs, slightly shaky from exertion, and made way to the locker room past the field of football players. The locker rooms were in an old stained building detached from the main building. Inside was about as appealing as the buildings front and Grantaire begrudgingly removed his filthy shoes as to not track in mud though he had little desire to step on some questionable liquid, those were the rules. Grantaire eyed up the door to the shower and decided to wait till he got home. 

Voices reached Grantaire from the main locker area, hushed, urgent tones. Not wanted to become involved in whatever matter he resigned himself to waiting around the corner till they were done. Whatever it was the hushed voices were growing in volume and Grantaire was able to identify them as Marius Pontmercy and Feuilly. Marius’ was pitiful, devoid of hope and Feuilly was trying desperately to comfort him. Grantaire moved closer to hear because while he was not friends with Marius and the merry band of activists Eponine would want to know why her crush was upset. Marius let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob in response to what Feuilly had said.

“Thanks Feuilly, but how am I supposed to just ask? I can barely work up the nerve to hi.” 

“Well, you don’t have to I guess, its up to you and that way you’ll get closure.” 

“What if I just get laughed at if they don’t like me? I’ll just stutter and go red and everyone will stare!” Marius took a deep breathe to steady himself, before he began to talk quietly. “I’m not like Jehan, I cant just talk about how gorgeous they look-” 

“-Golden locks cascading down thine divine shoulders.” Feuilly provided, earning a laugh from Marius.

"Exactly, I'm not able to rant poetry and make someone fall for me."

Grantaire realised he could be waiting a long time, so he walked in as if he had just arrived, retrieved his things, and promptly left with a polite “Hello” to the two members of Les Amis.

The bus home was uneventful, the same scenery going by in a blur of houses, trees and cars. The same streets and storefronts, the only thing which changed was sky. On the journey to school on these late Autumn days the sky was dark, only cracks of light creeping over houses and through veils of clouds. In the evenings though the sky was blazing in full glory, to be truthful it was mainly cloudy and heavy but tonight was different. Tonight the sky was streaked with exuberant magentas wedged between reds and purples. A host of colours which seemed so bold and joyous but Grantaire was too absorbed with what he had over heard to even notice. It was only by force of habit he managed to get off at his stop.

“I’m home”, Grantaire called, knowing no one was home to see him, his parents wouldn’t be home for a few hours and his sister was on a play date. Grantaire shrugged of his coat and bags in the hall then climbed into the shower. He turned on the hot water and watched as the sides fogged up till he could see no more than a foot or two around himself. Grantaire didn’t know why the conversation was getting to him so much. He wasn’t friends with Marius or Feuilly, only Eponine who rarely spoke to Marius despite knowing each other growing up. Eponine didn’t talk about Marius much but it was evident she was no where near over him, after all he was her first real crush and that’s hard to forget. There had just been something so sad about the way Marius spoke, like he would never have a chance.

Grantaire applied liberal amounts of shampoo into his hair and mulled things over. He should just let it go, Marius was nothing to him really, it didn’t matter. Sure he got on casually with some of the Les Amis he was in elementary and middle school with but that was it. If Marius was upset over some crush it didn’t concern him except through Ep, who he had no intention of telling because “golden locks” definitely wasn’t her. All Grantiare even knew was that Marius was crushing hard and some golden haired person with they pronouns. This meant Enjolras because really how many people fit that description and it would make sense why Marius was so intimidated by them. It also made sense why Marius was head over heels, Enjolras was gorgeous, did what they wanted, and always helped people with this amazing level of intensity and dedication. Grantaire had spent too much time thinking about this to do nothing. Turning off the water Grantaire got out of the shower with a half formed plot of how to help Marius. 

That night he wrote his first love letter.


	2. In which we learn about Enjolras

Enjolras had always enjoyed looking pretty and playing with girl’s toys. This was never a cause of worry for Enjolras’ parents because for every Barbie there was a soldier toy and a tank. Photo albums of their childhood were filled with a pretty child playing with any type of toy in a wide array of clothing from dresses to shirts with trucks on them. The dresses were bought because their Mum was sick of nice sheets being used as makeshift gowns and if the Cinderella dress kept them from crying then so be it. 

Being different never bother Enjolras because they never knew they were different. All through kindergarten they did and wore what they liked and for the most part no one noticed because they all thought Enj would grow out of it. As Enjolras teacher became stricter in small ways, they were pickier about which bathroom they used and what they wore. Confused classmates began to ask uncomfortable questions about why did Enj (who they had assumed was a girl) now never wore pretty dresses and used the boy’s bathroom. Enjolras didn’t mind because they liked boy’s things too, but didn’t understand why it bothered teacher that they after they finished a war game the soldiers all had to get dressed up and married. 

Classmates got meaner when their answers made less and conservative parents imposed opinions on a not yet eight year old. Enjolras, the pretty flower child began to object to flower crowns as an act of self preservation to avoid questioning. All thoughts of non conformity were pushed from their mind but they would object to any suggestion of girliness inside and outside them home. If you were to ask Enjolras about the golden locks that almost reached their waist they would answer it was due their mother’s affinity to it. 

By the time they were 10 they began to suffer from dysmorphia. Tears were kept behind closed doors, because it was wrong and boys don’t do girl things. Enjolras once entered his feelings into google and discovers the trans community, it helped to know these people existed but they weren't a girl, they still liked being a boy too. It took another half year before they discover the * of LGBT*. And that was when things really fell into place. Enj came out as genderqueer at age 12 to confused but accepting parents who wanted their child to happy. 

People at school were confused and ignorant and Enjolras was bullied harshly for being gay, a faggot, and queer. Enjolras’ parents were confused and frightened for what their child went through everyday, and worried constantly until Enj explained it was easier to block others out than blocking themself out. Their parents cried themselves to sleep that night that night for their child, who had done nothing to disserve this. While their school had a zero tolerance policy in theory in practise none of the teachers really wanted to defend the queer kid in a conservative town. When it became clear no would help they packed their bags and moved to a more open town, with annual pride parades and support groups should Enj wish to attend. 

Enjolras settled in well to their new school, it wasn’t a private school but it had a waiting list which their parents had been able to bump them up on. They became fast friends with a few kids in his grade who didn’t give a damn if Enj wore skirts. Joly was the first to approach them due to his caring nature and he was quickly followed by Bossuet. They invited Enjolras into their friend group which also included Bahorel, Cosette and Combeferre. Once they discovered why Enjolras moved (this had taken awhile, as he had quite a stiff upper lip about it) his friends always made sure one of them was with Enj and that they always had their back. This support let Enjolras grow again, become more confident and resolve their inner turmoil. 

They all stayed close friends and all went to the same high school when the time came. Their group expanded here to include Musichetta, Feuilly, Jehan, Courfeyrac and Marius. They became more interested in inequalities of gender, class and race problems which affected most of them but concerned even those in the group it didn’t. It became a regular source of discussion and the group started meeting at least once a week at the quaint café by the school where Jehan worked. It was nice and Enjolras had never felt so contented with his life because he had friends and a purpose.


End file.
